A Simple Mistake
by wolfgirl1981
Summary: Even after being driven from the Eyrie by Sansa Stark and her allies, Littlefinger thinks he's got it all worked out ... With a hint of SanSan. Warnings: violence, character death, and LF's filthy thoughts (non-con, mostly wishful thinking though). One-Shot.


This is my first attempt at writing fanfic, which has also been published on LJ. Concrit welcome :)

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. It's all GRRM's

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Give a stray dog a purpose and a purse of gold and he will gladly be of service to you, Petyr Baelish was pleased to find out after escaping from the Eyrie and the Lords Declarant. As luck would have it, he had met Sandor Clegane in the woods outside the Gates of the Moon, and being in need of a guard, he had hired him on the spot. Petyr didn't trust him of course. He hadn't got this far by putting his trust in other people. But he was out of options and as long as he could pay he believed he could count on Clegane's loyalty. The Hound's loyalty to the Lannisters had been legendary before his desertion during the Battle of Blackwater Bay. Now the Lannisters would have his head if they were to lay hold of him, but he was still one of the fiercest warriors in the Seven Kingdoms and like any dog glad enough to have found a new master, Petyr reckoned. No, he wasn't worried Clegane would turn his cloak on him. After all, even hungry dogs know better than to bite the hand that feeds them.

Petyr had told him a wild tale about betrayal and his bastard daughter, who, after everything he had done for her, had run away with a substantial sum of money she had stolen from him. Luckily, Clegane was not one to ask questions. No point in letting the Hound in on the fact that his daughter Alayne Stone was in truth Sansa Stark in disguise. No point in telling him that she had set the Lords of the Vale on Petyr before disappearing from sight, apparently with the help of the Kingslayer himself, her fucking brother-in-law of all people, and a big, ugly wench who thought herself to be a knight. A more unlikely pair Petyr had never heard of.

Now he was fleeing the Vale, but also chasing after her. He could not, would not let her escape even if it was to be the end of him. Fortunately, with winter upon them and the passes closed, there was only one place to go for her – or for him – if they wanted to leave the Vale.

The sun had barely risen when he and Clegane came upon them, no more than a day's ride from Gulltown. The track they had been following made a sharp turn to the left and led to a little clearing where he could see traces of a small camp that couldn't have been abandoned for long. The ashes were still warm. Not far from where he had stopped his horse the trees ended abruptly and gave way to a sheer precipice which overlooked the road and the valley below. "They cannot be far," he declared. From here they would have to walk and lead their horses for a short while as there was no proper path to ride along anymore, the ground made even more treacherous by the snow. At least it had stopped snowing in the night. They were following the trail Sansa and her companions had left, when he caught a glimpse of gold and yellow up ahead. Silently, he gave a sign to the Hound, who had managed to move around the forest as quietly as if he was a creature of the woods himself. Quite impressive for such a big man, really. His skills would come in handy now, Petyr thought to himself.

He had hoped to take them by surprise and quickly overpower them, but of course Jaime Lannister was too experienced to let that happen. In the end, it was himself and the Hound who were trapped, behind them the deep gorge, death waiting in the depths below, where he could hear a wild river rushing by, before them the wench brandishing her sword and the Kingslayer in his golden armour glaring daggers at them, clearly wishing he had something more to brandish than his crippled sword hand. _Not today._ Petyr wanted to laugh.

_She_ was there too, standing beside that Brienne woman, eyes wide, but with a radiant smile plastered onto her face. If he had not known better, he would have believed that smile even reached her eyes. She had never looked more beautiful, with her long tresses cascading down over her shoulders, now almost back to their natural auburn colour. Head held high, posture erect, the perfect lady, even in these dire surroundings of the snow-covered forest. Not even her mother could have compared to her, his apprentice, his lovely daughter, his ... lover. How he had fantasized about possessing her, how he had struggled to restrain himself, only stealing chaste kisses and soft touches here and there. There would be time, he had told himself. He would have his opportunity. He had laid his plans so carefully – until the girl herself had destroyed them all, had almost destroyed him. No matter. He still had some cards up his sleeve; all he needed to do was play them right. After all, there was no-one better at this game. He would rise again and then he would have his revenge. And he would have her.

Oh, the things he would do to her. There would be no holding back this time, married or not. He could already feel her tight, wet cunt around his hard cock, could feel her soft hair in his hands as he yanked back her head while he was pounding into her. Could hear her screams, screams of pain. Screams of pleasure. She would learn to thank him for every thrust, he would make sure of that.

But first things first.

They seemed to believe they had him now, it was really quite amusing. For what could a wench and a cripple do against the Hound, even if one was freakishly big and the other the Kingslayer? Ridiculous. Clegane would make short work of them and then Sansa Stark would be at his mercy once again. Apparently her would-be saviours came to the same conclusion because they grew more reluctant as they came closer. Only Sansa's smile never wavered. _What is she up to? She cannot believe her _men_ stand a chance against __the Hound. Stupid girl, she should have run. Well, that mistake will cost her dear ..._

If the Hound was surprised his _daughter _had turned out to be Sansa Stark, guarded by the Kingslayer, he didn't show it. Petyr supposed it was all the same to him anyway. "You know what to do, Clegane. I just want the girl alive."

As he watched Sansa's face, intent on savouring every moment of his impending victory, the Hound suddenly slid Petyr's dagger from its sheath and shoved it up under his chin.

"Oh yes, that I do, Littlefucker. That I do," he growled softly.

For once in his life Petyr was lost for words. His mind was working furiously, trying to keep the rising dread at bay, but the roar of the river down below made it hard to think. Or was that the blood rushing through his ears? _I taught her well after all. Maybe too well ..._

"Very good, sweetling, very clever ... - What did she promise you, Clegane? Promised to open her pretty legs for you, didn't she?" he managed to chuckle. "Whatever it was, you cannot believe she-" The Hound's only response was to press the blade harder against his skin, starting to draw blood. Petyr took a step backward and almost lost his balance, sending small rocks and stones into the abyss. The Hound caught him with his free hand and shoved him up against the nearest tree. He was too strong to fight.

And then Sansa Stark finally stood before him, her smile cold as the northern winter and a frosty expression in her eyes.

"Please, sweetling, let me explain!-" Petyr choked the words out, just as he noticed the warm wetness of his blood trickle down his neck and another running down his legs. "Winterfell ... the marriage I had planned for you .. no, not Harry the Heir, never Harry ... There's so much more to it! B-But I thought you were not ready to learn all the details yet. I was so wrong, sweetling, I can see that now. Me thinking it was mere coincidence to meet the Hound on the road! How clever of you to arrange it! How did you do it, if I may ask? I never noticed a thing!"

"I never did."

Smiling sweetly, she nodded to the hulking shadow beside him and laid her small hand on the Hound's large one, who was still holding the dagger against Petyr's throat.

_Not today. _Relieved, Petyr started to breathe again, only now realizing that he had held his breath at all.

He hardly felt the sharp steel slice open his artery. Too confused to put up a fight, Petyr only blinked and blinked again, as his life force was slowly draining away. The last thing he saw was the stunned expression on Sandor Clegane's face. In the semi-darkness under the trees it almost looked as if Sansa Stark was hugging him in a tight embrace.


End file.
